Mitch nodded. “Yeah, sort of. I’m here to update the software on the biometric recog system.”
The man’s face was blank.
“OK, yeah I’m here to fix the computers.”
“Yes, you wait here. We will send someone down to see you.” He pointed at the waiting area.
Mitch sat and picked up a magazine. It was in Spanish. He thumbed through the pictures.
“Excuse me.”
He looked up and saw an overweight man dressed in a suit and tie, sporting a full beard.
“I was told you are here to fix our computers? I’m the head of IT.”
Mitch stood and shook his hand. “Hi, I’m Bruce from GE.”
The man smiled. “Oh, you must be here for the Cognitive system.” He handed Mitch a visitor’s pass.
“That’s the one, partner. We’ve got a new patch, speeds up searches by twenty percent.”
His smile turned into a frown. “Your people usually do that remotely. Have there been any problems?”
“No, not at all. We just like to get out on site every now and then to check things over, and make sure our clients are happy. Don’t worry, it doesn’t cost you anything.”
The IT manager looked relieved. “Well in that case, let me show you to the server room.”
Mitch followed him to the elevator. “So, have you had any problems with the system?”
“No, it’s been very good.”
That’s right, thought Mitch. The CIA would want it to work perfectly.
The manager led him out the elevator and down a corridor to a security door. He swiped the key access and they entered the server room. Mitch shivered; the air-conditioning was running full bore to keep the room at an icy fifty-three degrees.
“This is the Cognitive rack here.”
Mitch gave it a once over then pulled out his laptop and plugged it in.
“How long do you think this will take?”
He keyed in a few commands. “About twenty minutes.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s a bit colder in here than outside. Is there any chance you can whistle me up a coffee?”
The manager nodded and left the room. Mitch pushed in an earpiece and wirelessly tethered it to his laptop. “Flash, can you hear me?”
There was a slight delay as the signal bounced seven and a half thousand miles and back again. “I’ve got you loud and clear, bro, and I’ve got access to the system.”
He watched as code raced across the screen of his laptop and heard Flash humming.
The door beeped and the IT manager appeared with a disposable cup filled with black coffee. “Hey thanks, bud.” Mitch took a sip from the beverage. He was more of a tea kind of guy but no one seemed to drink it in the Americas.
The manager peered at the laptop screen. “No problems?”
“No, everything seems good. I’m just running a diagnostic, then I’ll upload the patch.”
“OK, well, I’ll be back in about ten minutes, yes.”
Mitch gave a broad smile. “Should be all done by then. Thanks for the coffee.”
Once he was out the door Mitch transmitted to Flash. “The IT guy here looked straight at the screen, mate. Is he going to be able to read any of this?”
“Hell no. Would be like asking Chua to check out my code. That man wouldn’t know ASCII from BASIC.”
“I’m going to tell him you said that.”
“He knows it. OK, I’m in. I’ve got access to the Cognitive database and the real-time feeds.”
“First things first, you need to get Christina and Bish off the system. Then we need to track down the Chief of Police. We want full pattern of life.” Mitch could hear Flash’s fingers racing over the keyboard.
“Hey slow down, big fella. It’s not often I get a man inside the bad guy’s server room. Now, while you’re there you might be able to patch the police email server into the Cognitive server. That’ll give me full access to everything the dirty cops are up to.”
Mitch glanced at his watch. “OK, but I’ve only got a few minutes at most.”
“No problem. Use the cable from your laptop. The email rack should be labeled.”
He moved down the aisle of servers searching for the email database. The servers were numbered not named. “Flash, they’ve got numbers stuck on them.”
“OK, wait a sec.” Flash’s fingers were racing again. He was not sure if it was possible but it sounded as if he was typing even faster. “Got it. You’re looking for rack number three.”
He examined the labels. Three was directly opposite the one they were working on. “Found it. He plugged the cable into an empty LAN port and connected the other end into the Cognitive server. “It’s in. You’ve got to hurry, Flash. I can’t leave this cable hanging halfway across the room.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on.”
The security door beeped and opened. Mitch reached across and put his hand on the plug in rack 003. The IT manager had the door open but was talking to someone in the corridor. “Hurry up!” he whispered.
Just as the manager pushed open the door Flash gave him the OK. Mitch yanked the cable.
“How’s it all going?” the man asked.
“Good, I’m all done. The system’s purring like a kitten.” Mitch unplugged the cable and stashed it in his backpack. He slid his laptop inside and slung it over his shoulder. “I think you’re going to be very happy with the increase in performance.”
The manager returned his smile. “Very good. Now, I’ve got to go to a meeting. Do you mind showing yourself out?” he asked as he guided Mitch out of the server room and shut the security door.
“Sure thing.” He offered the man his hand. As they shook he realized his palms were sweaty. He turned and walked down the corridor to the elevator. It took him to the ground floor where he made a beeline for the exit.
“Hey, stop!”
Mitch froze, his heart in his mouth. He turned around slowly.
“You need to hand in your security pass.”
He walked across to the desk and handed over the pass. “Sorry, I forgot.” He turned and strolled out the doors, down the steps, and hailed a taxi.
“We should definitely do this more often,” said Flash through the earpiece. “I could get used to this sort of access.”
“Go fuck yourself,” replied Mitch. “Remember I’m a geek like you, mate, not an operator.”
“Well, I’m not sneaking around in Mexico with a machine gun.” Flash chuckled. “Anyway, I’ve wiped all links to the team. It’s going to take us a few hours to get the intel Bish wants. I’ll check in later.”
A cab pulled up and Mitch got in. He gave the driver a slip of paper with an address. They drove three blocks before pulling over. He paid the man, walked through a park, and got in the blue Dodge pickup waiting on the other side.
“We good?” asked Bishop as he pulled out into the traffic.
“Good to go, mate.”
“Excellent. Emilio’s back from his nephew’s and he’s got everything we need. Bishop glanced at his iPRIMAL. The device was directing him to their new safe house, the empty warehouse on the outskirts of town.
“So, we’re in business then.”
Bishop nodded. “Let’s take these bastards down.”
***
Howard and his team had been working on Objective Yankee for three days but were no closer to identifying him or any of his associates. Pershing was calling every few hours and his boss, Everest, was demanding results. He figured he had a day to dig up a lead or the director was going to shut him down. Once that happened his resources would disappear and Pershing would cut off the payments.
He slammed a fist down on his desk. “How the fuck can these people simply not exist? They’re running around killing cartel guys and no one knows who the hell they are.”
Ben, his signals analyst was trawling through phone activity in vicinity of the mine. Shelly, the all-source analyst was on her lunch break.
Howard loosened his tie an
d waddled over to the bar fridge in the corner of the room. He popped a can of zero-sugar energy drink and took a hefty swig.
The door to the room opened and Shelly entered. “Any luck, boys?”
“No,” mumbled Ben.
“Nothing,” added Howard.
She sat at her workstation and got back to work.
The sound of fingers tapping away at keys was the only noise in the room as Howard stared at the wall. Shelly looked at him from over her screen. “Hey, Terry.”
“Yeah”
“I’ve got some good news.”
“You won lotto and we can all go home?”
“Not that good. The BfV got back to me about that information request.” She referred to the Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz, Germany’s internal security agency.
Howard put his drink down and remained seated as he scooted his chair around to her desk. “Did they get a hit?”
“Yeah, that tall guy, Objective Red Sox, is one Wilhelm Jaeger, a former police officer and GSG 9 operator.”
“No shit. So what’s the go, has he gone rogue?” He leaned over her shoulder to read the email.
“No further information. If we want more details they’re going to have to get a court order and put in a formal request to the German Federal Police.”
“Did you search the name on our database?”
Shelly nodded. “Yes, we’ve got nothing.”
He rolled back to his desk and took another sip of the energy drink. A formal request for information was a big deal and would take the Germans days to get the required paperwork through. It would have to come from Everest so he needed to get moving. He adjusted his tie. “Can you print off what we’ve got? I’m going to have to go and see Everest.”
***
Pershing took the memory card from Burro and slotted it into his laptop. The pictures that appeared on the screen were a little fuzzy but they served his purpose. “Good work, son. Now go and get me that piece of shit rancher.”
Burro nodded and left the office. He hit print on the photos while he waited.
When Roberto was dragged in, Pershing winced. His face was battered and swollen, one eye completely closed over. He almost regretted letting the Black Jackets take out their frustrations on the prisoner. They had lost over a dozen of their comrades to the ranchers and mercenaries in the last week and Roberto had borne the brunt of their anger.
“Burro, can you get Mr. Soto a glass of water please.” Pershing tipped back in his chair. “At first I thought that kid was a bit of a waste of time. Got to admit, he’s really coming into his own.”
The rancher stared at him with his jaw clenched.
“Still, that’s not why we’re here. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me where the rest of your buddies are at.”
Burro reappeared with a glass. He put it on the desk in front of Roberto. The rancher never even looked at it. He just stared at Pershing.
“Look, I understand. I grew up in area not unlike this on a ranch not too different from yours. It was a hard life. Pop was tough and he would have fought tooth and nail had someone tried to take his land. But, it wasn’t worth shit and when he died, he died a poor man. You tell me where your friends are and I’ll give you twice what your land’s worth. You ask Burro, I’m good for it.”
The lieutenant nodded. “You sure are, Mr. Pershing.”
Roberto pursed his lips and it looked like he was going to talk. But, instead he spat on the desk.
He sighed. “I didn’t want it to come to this.” He turned over the printed pages and pushed them to the other side of the desk. “But if you don’t tell me where they are, the people you love are going to suffer.”
He watched Roberto’s face as he looked down at the photos of his wife and children. The images had been taken at a shopping mall in Juarez. His stony glare softened and tears flowed from both of his eyes. One corner of Pershing’s mouth turned up in a sinister smirk.
CHAPTER 31
Bishop laid plastic sheeting on the unfurnished office floor and taped it in place. He stood back and admired his handy work as Emilio brought in a metal chair and placed it in the middle of the room. “Thanks Emilio.”
The old rancher stared at him for a moment.
“What’s up?”
“You work for the UN?”
Bishop nodded. “That’s right.”
“What about the other two?”
“No, let’s just call them security consultants. We go back a long way and they owe me a few favors.”
“Mercenaries.”
“Yes, except they’re not getting paid.”
“There’s lots of gold at the mine. Maybe they could steal it?”
“That’s not necessary. It belongs to your people, not us.”
“Then why would they help us?”
Bishop grasped him by the shoulder. “Because not everyone in the world is a wolf, Emilio, some men are sheepdogs.”
He walked into one of the bedrooms where Mitch was working on his iPRIMAL tablet. The team had made it off-limits to Emilio and his men. “How’s it going?”
“Great, the boys in the Bunker have used the system’s license plate identifier to track the police chief’s movements. By working back through the archives they’ve ID’d his favorite brothel. He visits the Loco Poni most nights.” He brought up a map of the city and showed Bishop the location.
“Excellent, we’ll grab him there. What time does he usually go?”
“Between seven and ten. I can let you know as soon as he leaves the office. Flash has given me remote access to the system. If he turns right he’s on his way home. If he turns left he’s on the way to the titty bar.”
“Let’s hope he’s in the mood for a little jiggy jiggy.” Bishop left Mitch to monitor the system and joined Mirza in the living room. The PRIMAL operative was showing Miguel and Gerardo how to use the RPG-7. At Bishop’s request they had received two of the rocket launchers from Emilio’s cousin in the Sinaloa Cartel. “How many rockets they give us?” he asked.
“Only six,” Mirza replied.
“Should be enough to take out that dozer. What about bang?”
“A lot. At least two hundred pounds of PowerGel in the back of Emilio’s truck.” Mirza left the two farmers with the unloaded RPG. “Bish, do you have a minute?”
“Sure, mate. Let’s jump in with Mitch.” He opened the bedroom door and pulled it shut behind them. “What’s up?”
“I think we need to request additional support from the Bunker. We can’t hit the mine with just the six of us.”
He nodded. “I’ve already spoken to Vance about deploying the CAT. Some of the boys are still getting back from Europe but he reckons he can get them here ready to roll in forty-eight hours. We’re going to wait till then to hit them.”
“OK, good. And he’s supportive of a kinetic solution now?”
“After what happened at the Veda ranch, he agrees there’s no alternative. If we can come up with a sound plan involving the CAT, he’ll green light it.”
“Looks like our man’s got a hard-on,” whooped Mitch.
“What?” asked Mirza.
“The Chief of Police,” said Bishop. “He’s heading to his favorite bang bar.” He clapped his hands. “Let’s go pick him up.”
***
Bishop looked out the window as Emilio parked the truck outside the address for the bar. “You sure this is the right place?” he asked. It was a squat, three-story building, with no windows. The cinder block walls were painted bright yellow and glowed under the streetlights.
“Yeah mate,” said Mitch. “That’s the chief’s car over there.” He pointed at the silver SUV parked down the street.
“And he’s alone?”
“Well, probably not now. But he arrived alone.”
“Right.” Bishop checked his Beretta and holstered it under his jacket. He double-checked the TASER and stimpack in his pocket. “I’m good to go. Everyone ready?”
“I’m read
y,” said Mirza.
“Me too,” said Emilio.
“Good, let’s keep this tight and fast.”
They got out of the truck and approached a solid metal-clad door. Emilio buzzed the intercom and spoke to the voice at the other end. They talked for a good minute, the conversation sounding heated.
“What’s the problem?”
“He says it’s a private club. I told them you’re very wealthy American miners. He’s gone to ask his boss if it’s OK.”
They stood outside for a few more minutes before the intercom hissed and the voice returned.
“OK, they want two hundred US to let you in.”
“What? That’s robbery. OK, fine.”
“They want to see the money.”
Bishop pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He waved it in front of the camera on the intercom. Finally, the door clicked and Emilio pulled it open. They walked into a foyer where they were welcomed by a scantily clad hostess and a stocky, barrel-chested thug.
The bouncer held out his hand. “Two-hundred dollar.”
Bishop smiled and held out the wad of notes. As the guard reached for it he dropped the cash, grabbed the man’s hand, and twisted it. A sharp kick knocked him off his feet and a moment later he was face down on the floor, hands bound with flexicuffs.
“Keep an eye on him, Mitch.” Bishop pocketed the cash.
“Easy as pie.” Mitch dragged the bouncer into the cloak room.
Emilio showed the terrified hostess a picture of the Police Chief, asking in Spanish where he was. She shook her head. Bishop pulled back his jacket and showed her the Beretta. She started nodding and led them up a staircase to the second floor.
“What a shit hole,” he said as they walked down a dimly-lit corridor with thick red carpet and brightly colored doors on either side. The air was thick with the stench of cigarettes and booze.
Mirza scrunched up his nose. “I seem to find myself following you into lots of places like this.”
“Hey, if you want to hunt monsters, you got to go into the lair.”
The girl stopped in front of a bright orange door. Bishop waved her out of the way and listened. It sounded like someone was filming a porno. He pulled a balaclava over his face and drew the TASER. Mirza did the same, drawing his pistol.
PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5) Page 24
